


On the Moonlight Side

by theladymondegreen



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Checking Practice, Gen, Identity Reveal, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:13:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21988600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theladymondegreen/pseuds/theladymondegreen
Summary: Bitty goes to Samwell expecting to be the only werewolf on the team, only to be surprised when Jack turns out to be one too. However, Jack has no idea about Bitty and seems content to ignore his wolfy-ness. Meanwhile, Bitty runs across Kent in the forest, who has his own werewolf related secret, and develops a relationship with him. When the truths are revealed, all three have to deal with how it changes their relationships with each other.
Relationships: Eric "Bitty" Bittle & Jack Zimmermann, Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Kent "Parse" Parson
Comments: 9
Kudos: 73
Collections: OMGCP AU Bang 2019





	On the Moonlight Side

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to KARIN848 for the amazing art, and stevie_RST for the beta!

The sun on the field outside Faber was shining brightly while a decent breeze kept it from getting too hot. Looking around, Eric could tell that he wasn't the last one to arrive, although judging by the number of people, more than half the team was already here. He barely managed to set the pecan pie he'd brought down amongst the other desserts (mostly boxes of cookies that came from the bakery section of a grocery store) before he was accosted by an arm thrown over his shoulder attached to a man smelling strongly of weed and beer, as well as something else that had Eric immediately on edge even though he couldn't place it. Eric was so busy calming himself down that he missed the first few words the stranger said.

"-one of the new frogs, huh? I'm Shitty," he said.

"Eric Bittle," he backed away and thrust his hand out to shake, thankful his mother had ingrained proper manners into him so well that it was automatic, even as he was still getting used to the smell.

"Wow you're short. Bittle... Bitty!" Shitty said, ignoring the hand Eric was holding out, "Come meet the rest of the team, Bitty!"

And the arm was back around his shoulder, Shitty bodily steering him towards the nearest cluster of guys. Names and positions were tossed at him so quick that he barely had a chance to see their faces before they moved on to the next group. Eric figured he'd met most of the guys when a loud shout indicated that might not be so.

"BRO!" a tall blond yelled, running across the field.

"BRO!" another equally tall man yelled, running full tilt towards him.

Eric winced, anticipating a violent collision between the two, correctly it would seem. But the two bounced back as if they had planned it, jumping up and launching into a complicated handshake.

"Ransom and Holster," Shitty said, nodding sagely as if that explained what had just happened. Conversation started back up, although Eric heard another student (one of the other frogs? Did they really call the freshmen frogs?) ask if that was normal. He wasn't sure if he was more concerned about the fact that the affirmative answer was accompanied by a level heartbeat (indicating it was true) or the fact that it was followed up by 'you get used to it' also spoken with 100% sincerity.

Shitty dragged him towards another group, saying "And of course, saved the best for last."

There were two guys, talking quietly. The one on the left had a strangely forgettable face, while the other had the iciest blue eyes Eric had ever seen.

"Johnson, goalie," Shitty said, and the leftmost guy lifted his drink in a silent salute, "And Captain Jack here."

Eric reached out to shake their hands, introducing himself. It wasn't until he was shaking Jack's hand that he realized that the smell that clung to Shitty was also all over Jack - less so the beer and weed, though Shitty smelled so strongly of that that anyone near him would pick it up - and more so the third unidentified component. He only realized that he'd been standing there, awkwardly holding Jack's hand while trying to figure out the scent when Shitty coughed.

"Yeah, he is that Jack Zimmermann."

Whatever that meant. Jack abruptly pulling his hand back and walking away seemed more important. As he walked away, he passed upwind of Eric the scent intensified and he immediately realized why it had set him so on edge. His mama would have his hide if she knew how long it took him to figure out — all those long long hours of practice scenting and he couldn't even recognize one of his own!

Shitty seemed not to have noticed his distraction and had gone on in a long rant, thankfully interrupted when the coaches called that the burgers were ready.

His relief was short lived. Growing up with werewolves, one will experience more than a few meals eaten primarily with gusto, manners left to the winds, but that was nothing to a collegiate hockey team. Burgers were disappearing at a rate that he could barely even keep up with, and he had a supernatural metabolism to help him out.

Nothing could have prepared him for what happened to his pie, however. At least he was pretty sure it was enjoyed, but it was the single most graphic thing he had seen. Horrified wasn't a strong enough word for how he felt — surely he smelled strongly enough that even humans could pick it up.

Baring that incident (and the general chaos that was the entire meal) the event went pretty smoothly. He found himself talking with Ollie and Wicks, two of his fellow frogs, and Johnson. When he mentioned maybe going to find the other two freshmen, Johnson said, "Don't worry, they don't serve a purpose in the narrative," which seemed both a little rude and pretty strange to Eric, but he supposed there'd be plenty of time to get to know everyone in the coming months.

Things quieted down and groups started breaking up and heading out soon after that. Coach Hall shouted one last reminder about the first practice tomorrow morning and headed home himself. Eric hung back a little, figuring that now would probably be a good time for he and Jack to make sure they would be able to function on the same team. After saying bye to Ollie and Wicks with a promise to walk to practice together from the freshman dorms, they headed out, leaving him mostly alone.

Or entirely alone, it seemed. He hadn't noticed (and lord would his mama scald him for paying so little attention), but he and the other two frogs had apparently been the last ones there, Jack nowhere to be seen. He concentrated on his senses more than usual, going so far as to close his eyes and listen for a heartbeat somewhere nearby before he realized that no one was around. Maybe Jack was less concerned than he was about playing with another wolf?

* * *

Practice maybe went a little less smoothly. It was obviously much more intense than his co-ed team back in Madison, but he was keeping up just fine, often leading in the speed focused drills. Then Coach Murray called for a scrimmage, breaking them up into lines. Within seconds, Eric had the puck and was heading towards the goal. He barely heard Jack calling 'heads up' before he noticed a body heading right towards him.

The sight of dark walls and unmistakable taste of blood startled him. He was just as surprised when they disappeared and he found himself on the ice, crouched in the fetal position. Thankfully he'd flung his arms over his face, as he could tell he'd lost control of the shift and definitely didn't look human right at that moment.

"Bittle, you okay?" Coach Hall asked.

"Just need a moment," he carefully kept his arms up, but already he felt his face returning to the human default. He sat up slowly, then stood with more confidence, "I can keep practicing, I'm fine."

"If you're sure," Hall looked doubtful, but there were plenty of other things he needed to keep an eye on.

"Of course, freak accident, won't happen again," Eric said, skating off to rejoin practice, which had started back up once it was clear that he was going to be okay.

When Ransom (or was it Holster?) came in for a check later in practice and Eric once again found himself on the ice, claws out and face distinctly other (but once again hidden instinctually), he knew he had a bit of a problem.

By the end of practice he had dropped two more times and was much more worn out than he should be, owing to all the half-shifts he'd made. He undressed in the locker room, half paying attention to the conversations around him. ("We can totally make a play out of it. Like one of those fainting goats, man.")

The other half was paying much closer attention to the conversation Jack was having with the coaches in their office.

"Are you serious about Bittle?" Jack was asking.

"He sent in good tape," Hall said, his tone of voice indicating he was a little less than certain about his evaluation.

"I just don't see how he'll bring anything to the team like this," Jack said. Eric couldn't ignore how much that hurt — and Jack had to have known he could hear this conversation.

There was a slight pause, then Murray said, "Give him time Jack. He's quick and has soft hands. He just needs to work through this checking issue."

The click of a doorknob and squeal of hinges alerted him to Jack leaving the coaches' office. Eric hurried to pull off the rest of his equipment, not really relishing the thought of being alone in a room with him after that conversation. Hopefully he'd be out of there fast enough that Jack wouldn't be able to associate the hurt scent with him.

"Yo, Bitty, you coming to breakfast with us?" Shitty called. It took Eric a moment to remember that was apparently him.

"Sure, yes, uh huh," he said, stripping even faster. This way for sure he wouldn't be left alone with Jack. He'd never quite gotten the hang of werewolf posturing and any excuse to put off what was sure to be a particularly hostile session of that was fine by him.

* * *

The next afternoon (after another disastrous practice) found Eric and his fellow frogs standing outside a worn down frat house with a surplus of empty cans visible in every nook and cranny in the yard. While visually it was quite frightening, the underlying scent of the wood was clean and free of rot, so Eric assumed it was still structurally sound and not likely to collapse under their feet. That underlying scent was pretty far down, however, and the first impression was mostly beer beer BEER weed (and a distinct undertone of what was definitely sex scents, which, while unpleasant, was not unexpected). It was more than enough to give him a headache, even before he'd picked through all the different scents. They were halfway into the building and a good way into Shitty's lecture about the glories of the Haus (as he called it) before Eric was able to separate out the most dominant people-scents and realize he was literally walking into the wolf's den. The wolf in question being Jack.

Not exactly a great way to endear himself to him. Although if Jack lived in the team headquarters he obviously couldn't be too territorial about this particular space, which would by nature have people going in and out all the time.

Those thoughts were pretty quickly pushed to the wayside when he saw the kitchen. It was as worn as the rest of the place, and frankly concerningly cluttered, but there was a (presumably) working oven and plenty of counter space under the mess. With how the last few days had been going, any kitchen is a good kitchen, and he absolutely needed the calm that baking brought him. He was so focused on tidying up and getting a pie going that he completely forgot about the tour he was supposedly on. It was only when he picked up the scent of hunger that he realized he wasn't alone in the room, and exactly how at home he'd made himself.

"Is that... pie?" someone asked.

"Sometimes when I'm in a kitchen... I just... pies appear," he said, a bit sheepishly.

"Who cares, free pie," Holster said, grabbing forks and ending the pie's existence minutes after it began.

Pretty much no one talked while they were eating their pie, a strange amount of silence for a group that size. That made it all the more noticeable when the door thumped closed.

"What is that smell?" Jack asked from the hallway.

"Pie. Want some?" Ransom offered. At least, that's what Eric thought he'd said, as he hadn't bothered to swallow his mouthful before speaking.

Jack made no motion to grab some, and instead headed towards the stairs up to the second floor.

Eric stared after him for a moment before following, "Wait!" Eric called, catching up to him, "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"You are talking to me," Jack said dryly, stopping in the middle of the stairs, "But go ahead."

Eric looked at him incredulously, "Maybe somewhere a bit more private?" He didn't know about Jack, but he definitely was planning on keeping his status as a supernatural creature on a need-to-know basis. And the team most definitely did not need to know.

"Um. Okay. Come on up I guess."

Which is how Eric found himself standing in one Jack Zimmermann's room (okay, definitely not territorial he figured). Jack looked at him expectantly, dropping the bag he'd been carrying onto the floor.

"So..." he prompted.

Eric startled a little, "Yeah, I just wanted to make sure we wouldn't have any issues. I know Mrs. Manton's been clear in her expectations but I figured we should maybe make sure we have an arrangement that works between us too."

"Mrs. Manton?" Jack asked.

Eric's heart rate nearly doubled, he swore, "You don't know Mrs. Manton?"

"Not that I can think of." Jack's heart, in contrast, was perfectly steady.

Eric laughed nervously, "She must've been talking about some other Jack Zimmermann, I guess, sorry." How in the world did Jack not know the local alpha? There were meetings and countless phone calls before Eric had been sure he'd be able to come to Samwell and live in the Manton territory.

"It's not that common a name, I guess. Who exactly is Mrs. Manton?"

"Oh, uh, we play a table-top rpg, you know, like Dungeons and Dragons, and I thought she said she'd seen you around but I guess not." His heart rate was all over, so hopefully Jack wouldn't be able to pick up that lie. "Kinda embarrassing, I know. But I'll get out of your hair now, sorry!"

And he left.

He ducked out of the Haus after that, waving politely to the guys chatting in the kitchen on his way past. It wasn't until he got back to his dorm room that he let himself piece together what he knew.

One. Jack was a werewolf. There was no doubt, especially after Eric got an undiluted whiff in his bedroom.

Two. Jack didn't know Mrs. Manton. Eric was pretty sure Jack was telling the truth about that. But the how and the why eluded him. Either Jack's alpha just didn't bother talking to Jack about making arrangements for him to live on another pack's territory, or they'd never been made, which according to werewolf customs meant he was basically an illegal immigrant.

It felt like there was something Eric was missing. Something important.

He and Jack had finally talked alone. And nothing about the conversation really stood out, even if Eric had had to resort to one of the most basic excuses in the book (the surge in popularity of games and books involving werewolves made it surprisingly easy to wave suspicion of even the most blatant slip-ups, although heaven help the social cred of the person who had to use the larping excuse). Honestly, the conversation was so normal he could have had it with any of the guys.

All of the distinctly human guys.

And like a lightbulb lighting up, Eric realized what was going on.

"Jack doesn't know I'm a werewolf." 

* * *

The thought followed Eric to practice two days later. Eric was a werewolf and so was Jack, but against all odds Jack didn't seem to know that. How exactly that had happened, Eric wasn't sure, but he was starting to think that maybe Jack's alpha was to blame.

He'd been watching Jack closely since their conversation, and had noticed a few things. Things that would be normal for an ordinary human but are distinctly strange for a were. For starters, he never seemed to notice when people were lying to him, and that was one of the easiest things to pick up. Most alphas teach that as one of the first lessons in dealing with super-senses, as it was both useful and simple.

Then there was his complete and total inability to read the mood of a room. Either that or he just didn't care enough to adjust his behaviour to suit it. Eric had been having a pretty bad practice, ending up on the ice way more times than he was comfortable admitting. Coach Hall had yelled at him, Coach Murray expressed quiet disapproval, and honestly Eric was more than done with practice and hockey in general at that point. It didn't help that Jack had been critiquing just about every player on the team, always giving good advice but not exactly wanted while stressing about seven other things (the coaches had been free with the critique as well). That resulted in the whole arena smelling of exhaustion and stress, and it was having a significant effect on Eric's mood.

So it took all of his control to not cry or shift when Jack yelled at him after his latest fainting spell.

Shitty, Holster, and Ransom all tried to calm him down after practice, and justify Jack's attitude a bit, but all he really wanted to do was go home and call his Mama. But he'd been keeping his checking issue a secret from her, and especially from Coach. Who'd ever heard of a werewolf that had issues with something so minor? It's not like he hadn't been through far worse before. Any bruises would be gone within minutes with the amount of padding they wore and his accelerated healing anyway.

So instead he decided to go for a run.

There was a big park not too far from Samwell consisting mainly of a forested nature preserve. It wouldn't be like the ones back home, but the quiet of the forest had always helped calm him even back when he was human, the effect only amplified now. Running through the trees and keeping a good eye on his footing was just engaging enough that he couldn't think too hard about what exactly was stressing him out, and he was able to mostly put the whole checking issue on the back-burner and just be. He even listened to some birdsong and spent a little while tracking down one that wasn't native to Georgia, snapping a picture to identify later. He'd have to come back some night in wolf form. He heard another bird that didn't sound familiar and decided to go investigate when his mini-birdwatching adventure hit a rather abrupt end.

He, quite literally, ran into someone else.

Going from a decent pace to flat on your face was more than a little disorientating, but mostly he was confused about how he had managed to miss them before stumbling upon them. He hadn't thought he was that invested in the birds, but it wasn't the first time he'd lost track of things while focused on a specific task (hello baking). But a person (human, from the smell of it) in the middle of the woods wasn't exactly a small thing to miss.

"Oh, Lord, I am so sorry," he said, standing up and dusting himself off, "I wasn't paying attention to where I was going in the slightest!"

The man he had run into, hat knocked askew revealing messy blond hair, waved his hand and said, "No harm, no foul. Can't say I expected to meet someone out here, though."

"The whole forest and we managed to run into each other," Eric agreed. He only realized exactly how flirty that sounded after he'd finished speaking.

And, goodness, but the man sure seemed to appreciate the flirting. The faint scent of attraction was building by the second, mixing with his natural scent that complemented the woods around them so well. On second glance, Eric was struck by how attractive he was, barely taller than he was but definitely well-built from what he could see. And considering what exactly it was that sold him on Samwell, it wasn't entirely surprising that the next thing out of the stranger's mouth was, "Could I buy you some coffee to make up for it?"

Eric honest-to-goodness blushed, "Nothing to make up for!" he protested, "I was the one running around not paying attention to anything. If anything, I should be buying you coffee!"

The stranger smiled, "Sounds good," he said, "I'm Kent."

* * *

Eric sat at a table right at the front of Annie's clutching a PSL. Kent was supposed to be here any minute, but he'd been so nervous that he'd arrived early and nearly finished his first drink already. Every time the door opened his head would jerk even though he could see it perfectly fine from where he sat. He'd put his phone away after starting and stopping way to many anxious tweets (what if Kent found his Twitter? Or his mom?) and was sorely missing the distraction.

Finally, after what felt like hours but was probably minutes, the door opened and Kent walked in. He saw Eric and headed directly for him. "Sorry, I'm not late, am I?"

Eric shook his head, "Nope! I was a bit early."

"More than a bit, I'd guess," Kent said, glancing at his nearly empty mug, "Want a refill?"

"I'm pretty sure we agreed I'd be buying the coffee. Save our spot, I'll go get it." He stood up, gesturing at the chair across the table. "What would you like?"

Kent hummed, "Do they have pumpkin spice yet?"

Eric nodded, "One of those then?"

The barista kindly didn't comment on how long he'd been waiting for Kent when he put in their order before heading back to the table.

"They're on their way," he said, sitting down.

"So are we gonna talk generic get to know you things or deepest darkest secrets?" Kent said, leaning forward across the table, "Because I'll tell you now, I'm a Cancer."

"Is that supposed to be a generic thing or deepest darkest secret?"

Kent laughed, "That's for me to know and you to find out."

"Well then, I make pie."

"Like Sweeny Todd or a grandma?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out."

"Well, I'll be careful eating anything you serve me, that's for sure."

"Aw, sweetie, that's assuming you're the one doing the eating."

"I'm pretty sure that's the first time I've received a death threat while out for coffee."

"You've gotten death threats somewhere else?"

"Yeah, this weird guy ran into me in the woods and nearly killed me," Kent grinned.

"I didn't nearly kill you and there were no death threats!" Eric protested, "I was just distracted."

"Never did ask, what were you distracted by?"

"Oh, I could hear a bird and was trying to find it, it was different from the ones down in Georgia. And I wasn't the only one wandering the forest alone."

Kent took the lead, "Honestly, I was kinda doing the same thing. I go out now and again to see what the local wildlife's doing, any changes, whatever. It's a bit of a hobby."

"Oh, I would do that with my family back home. Mama would scold me when I startled the deer away."

Kent laughed, "My mom would get mad at me for that too! Any other hobbies, or just the baking?"

"Well, I guess if you count hockey, that? Although at this point figure skating's more a hobby and hockey is work?"

"Hockey, too? Are you interested in playing in the rec league? My team's got a spot."

"I know I don't look it, but I'm on the Men's team."

"No shit. So you're really good."

"I'm not that great. It's gonna take a lot of work if I want to stay on the team."

"I'm sure you can handle it."

* * *

Whether it was Kent's assurances (or the promise of a second date as long as he kept with the team a bit longer — although he caved right away and admitted he was bluffing) or just more experience, Eric found his game improving. He still dropped whenever someone got too close, but he was getting up faster, controlling the shift better, and more importantly was getting better at not getting into those situations. It was enough that the coaches didn't bench him for the first game of the season.

Honestly, he couldn't tell you what the score was at the end of the game. It seemed to happen mostly in flashes. The thunk of the puck against his stick. Dodging around the absolutely massive defenseman Dartmouth had sent out. Passing the puck to Ransom. Bodies on all sides of him, all smelling super happy even over the sweat, as they celebrated the goal. Getting a big grin from Kent when he glanced up at the stands.

He hurried to change out of his gear after the game, barely noticing Jack getting interviewed by the Daily, but definitely noticing Shitty telling him that his presence at the Haus for the kegster tonight was not optional. Mostly because Shitty chose to tell him so while completely and utterly naked.

As he suspected (and hoped) Kent was waiting in the hallway close to the locker rooms, and spread his arms wide for a hug as Eric approached. Eric gleefully went into his arms, excited enough to want to kiss him (but knowing that the hallway outside a locker room full of his teammates maybe wasn't the best place for a first kiss).

"Eric! What the hell, you said you weren't great?" he said as soon as he released him, "That goal was amazing!"

"It was!" he agreed enthusiastically. Goals in the co-ed league had never felt like this.

He luxuriated in the hug maybe a little longer than was strictly appropriate, before backing up. He pointed at the red Samwell jersey Kent was wearing, "You didn't tell me you were a fan."

"What can I say," Kent shrugged, "I've got good taste."

Holster and Ransom came down the hallway, Ransom playfully nudging Eric as they passed, "Bitty, don't forget!"

"I haven't. See you soon!" he said as they passed. At Kent's questioning look, he explained, "They're having a party and I apparently have to be there."

Kent nodded seriously, "The infamous hockey house kegster."

"Infamous?"

Kent cracked, grinning, "I'm messing with you. They get a little out of hand sometimes, but people definitely enjoy them."

"Oh, good, you had me worried there. Did you want to come?"

The grin grew wider, "Absolutely."

* * *

The Haus was loud and stank. That was impressive considering the default was not exactly a neutral starting ground. Inside was even louder and stinkier. The music drowned out everything but the loudest speaking. It was odd not being able to hear people's breathing and heartbeats, kinda like being human again, Eric mused.

Shitty immediately noticed them through the crowd of people somehow. "Bits! You're here! You need to do a keg-stand and you need to do it now." Shitty yanked him away, Kent following as they weaseled through the crowd. Bitty barely had time to react before Ransom and Holster hoisted him up by the ankles and said keg-stand happened.

When they set him back down, he found himself wobbling a bit, completely unexpectedly. The older cousins had always bragged about being able to drink any human under the table, shouldn't he be fine? Kent's hand around his elbow was the only thing keeping him mostly steady, and the sounds of the party were rapidly going from overwhelming to painful. Somehow, Kent noticed this and pulled him out the back door and into the yard.

The relief from the door closing and blocking out just a little sound was immense. It was still loud, but at least this time he could hear himself breathing. He enjoyed the reprieve so much that when Kent said, "Oh, hey, Jack, right?" he startled himself.

Sure enough, also hiding in the backyard was Jack. Eric winced when he remembered that Jack lived in the Haus — no escaping the party by just going home.

Jack waved them over to where he was sitting near the shed. "Kent. I didn't know you knew Bittle."

"Yeah. We have some shared hobbies."

"I didn't know you baked."

"Bake?" Kent paused, then nudged Eric, "You know you talk about it all the time and I think you still haven't made anything for me?"

"I didn't think Bittle would be physically capable of not baking for his boyfriend."

Eric swore he stopped breathing.  _ Boyfriends _ ?

Kent didn't let it stop him though, he winked at Eric and kept going, "I'm not gonna let a sweet perk like that go too much longer without taking advantage."

After that, the conversation strayed to coursework. Turned out Kent and Jack had worked together on a group project. The conversation abruptly ended when a crash sounded from inside the Haus, loud enough that even Kent heard it.

"I need to deal with that," Jack said, "Have a nice night."

As he walked away, Kent turned to Eric, "I'm not sure I want to go back in, you good with calling it a night? I'll walk you home."

If he was being honest with himself, Kent was the only person he wanted to spend time with at the moment, so he agreed.

"So, are you gonna bake me something?" Kent asked, maybe only half teasing.

"I can't believe I haven't already," he said, "Might be a bit of an effort to make something good in the dorm kitchens but for you I'll do it."

"You should come over to my place instead," Kent said, "I have my own kitchen and everything. We could make a day of it."

Lord, between letting himself be called Eric's boyfriend, and inviting him over, maybe Kent was as into Eric as Eric was into him. The only thing that would make the night better was a kiss. Even then, he eagerly agreed.

All too soon they came to a stop outside Eric's dorm, and their conversation came to a pause.

"So, boyfriends, huh?" Kent said with something that may have been a smirk if it wasn't so awkward.

"Sorry, I didn't know how to correct him."

"But if we're boyfriends, that means I get a goodnight kiss." The smirk shifted to a real smile.

Eric blushed, then leaned forward to peck Kent on the cheek.

"Better than that," Kent said. He pulled Eric into a kiss and took Eric's night from good to perfect.

If Eric had a tail right then, it would have been wagging. Instead, he had to be content with a grin when Kent said, "Much better. See, look at the sweet perks of being my boyfriend!"

* * *

The scent of his pack filled the forest and the moon was high in the sky. Despite its fullness, a white light shining down on the clearing he stood in, he didn't feel the pull to shift. He couldn't see the pack around him, the darkness beyond the clearing strangely impenetrable. He should have been surrounded but felt completely alone. A click startled him before a body hurled into him, sending him crashing to the ground. He was filled with a sense of anxiety and just started running.

The trees blurred past him, human figures appearing and disappearing as he went. A figure appeared right in front of him, and he darted to the side. He lost track of time until he suddenly felt a piercing pain in his leg, followed by another to his arm.

A pounding on the door startled Eric awake. "Bittle, get up," Jack called from the other side.

Eric whined, the sound distinctly canine. This close to the full moon, in a private space, he often slept in wolf form. He hurried the shift back to human, calling out "Just a minute" as soon as his vocal cords were back into human standard and slipping on sweatpants and a t-shirt. Any roughness could be passed off as sleepiness, as it was - a quick glance at his phone — 4 a.m..

"Jack, what in the world?" he said, flinging the door open.

"Grab your things. I have the ice booked at 4:30."

Half dazed, and more than half sleep deprived (this made two nights in a row that were less than optimal), Eric followed Jack to Faber without another word. He barely even protested as Jack pushed him into the locker room and told him to put on his pads, while Jack himself sat and put on his skates and nothing else.

The start of the sunrise shone through the windows of Faber, illuminating the rink enough that Jack hadn't bothered to turn on the lights. If it wasn't quite so early, it would probably even be beautiful.

"What are we even doing here, Jack?" he asked, trying and failing to rub the sleep from his eyes (forgetting that he had a full face mask on his helmet), "It's so early I'm gonna vomit."

"Just stand against the boards, Bittle."

Eric did so.

"Brace yourself. Ready?"

"Sure," he said, still not fully functional, although the brisk air in the rink was quickly fixing that.

He had a bad feeling, and all of a sudden Jack had him pushed against the boards. His thoughts were full of the feeling of enclosed darkness and the scent of blood. He was just barely aware of the scent of Jack, full of calm certainty, and his voice trying to coach him through it though the words were unclear. "Stop," he begged, feeling the shift coming up on him and knowing there was no way to hide it from this close, Jack still leaning against him.

Jack immediately backed away and Eric sank down against the boards, pulling his knees to his chest and burying his face in his knees, arms blocking everything from sight. He calmed himself down enough that he wasn't worried about immediately shifting before the terror caught up to him and he found himself suppressing a sob.

"Geez, Bittle, are you-"

"What the hell was that?" he interrupted, ripping his helmet off, "What were you even trying to do, besides terrify me?"

Jack held up his hands like he was talking to an injured animal (and in a sense he was, Eric joked bitterly to himself), "I came at you slow. I don't even have pads on."

Eric sniffed again, but accepted the hand Jack offered to pull himself back up.

"Seriously, Bittle. You've got soft hands, see the ice well, and you're an amazing skater. You'd be a huge asset to the team if you can just get past your stupid checking block. And if that's the only thing stopping you, we're going to work through it."

Bitty didn't know Jack thought that highly of him. All of their interactions seemed to be mostly Jack telling him to get over it, and that he wasn't bringing anything to the team.

"Just trust me, okay?" Jack said, a bit quieter.

Recognizing the olive branch he'd just been offered, he said, "Okay. How long are we gonna keep doing this?"

"Until you stop being scared." Jack said. Then awkwardly added, "But actually there's a youth hockey tournament today so we have to be out of here by 7."

* * *

The moment Eric stepped into Kent’s apartment, he sneezed. And a moment later he sneezed again.

“Whoa, coming down with a cold?” Kent asked, “No offence, but I don’t know if I want you cooking for me if you’re sneezing all the time.”

“I was fine until I got here,” Eric said, waving a hand like he was waving away Kent’s concern, “It must just be the change from the cold air or something.”

He hauled the bag of baking tools and ingredients he brought with him into the kitchen — having learned by now not to trust college students to have anything resembling a well stocked kitchen — and set up. Maybe he was focusing more on the baking than being alone with his  _ boyfriend _ as a distraction technique, but that was between him and this pie. The headache building wasn’t helping matters.

He and Kent caught up on their weeks while he prepped the filling —— a nice apple pie for a late fall treat — crust already baking in the oven. The chatting helped pull his attention away from the headache, but when Kent went to the bathroom it came to the forefront. He must have noticed Eric wince, because on his return he immediately got up in his space.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Just a headache.” Eric added the filling to the crust, “Besides that, this pie is so close to done I can taste it! No sense leaving it like this and making a worse pie later.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” Kent said, looking not sure at all, “But maybe you can sit on the couch with a cup of tea while I clean up?”

Moomaw always said she knew PeePaw was the one when he offered to clean up no questions asked. And the headache wasn’t getting any better.

“Okay,” he said.

He finished up the lattice, slipped the pie in the oven, and sat down on said couch. Kent immediately pushed tea at him and fussed with a blanket before going to wash the dishes. It was immediately obvious that he was trying to do them as quietly as possible, cursing under his breath every so often when something slipped out of his hands and clattered against the sink.

It was more than a little bit adorable.

The timer on Bitty’s phone reminded him to check on the pie, the scent filling the apartment hinted it would be close. A glance revealed the perfect crust.

He set it on the counter. Kent came at it with a knife.

“You gotta let it cool a little, honey,” he said, “Otherwise the filling leaks everywhere.”

“This is the cruelest treatment,” Kent said, “It smells so good!”

When Bitty finally let him cut it apart and plate a couple pieces for them, he immediately dug in, moaning as he took his first bite. “God, can I eat this always?”

Bitty was a bit slower on his bite. The headache hadn’t gone away, and his stomach was acting up, too. But a little shouldn’t hurt, he figured.

He was wrong. One bite had him running for the bathroom.

Kent followed, gently rubbing his back as he leaned over the toilet.

“Guess maybe I am a bit sick,” he said, when he felt like the worst was over.

Kent rested a hand against his forehead, “You do feel a little warm. Maybe a nap will help?”

He tucked Eric into his own bed, insisting the couch wasn’t great for sleeping on. The idea of a nap was appealing, Eric’s energy rapidly leaving him, but something about the bed had his wolf on edge. He tossed and turned a bit before he noticed a rash on his arm.

“Kent, I think I gotta go home,” he said, whining more than he would have liked.

Kent instantly appeared at his side, “You okay? Should I take you to a clinic? Yikes, where’s that rash from?”

“I must be allergic to your detergent or something,” Eric said, “But no, I just want to go home.”

Kent insists on driving him back to the dorm, and despite how shitty Eric is feeling physically, he can’t help but think the date went well.

* * *

Oh, Eric was in so much trouble. Just tons of trouble. Mama would never let him live this down, once she finished (rightfully) lecturing him about being so irresponsible.

It was a pretty logical decision, he'd thought at the time. Since there was no way he'd be back on campus by 4 if he went to the park for the full moon, he'd just stay on campus instead. And he knew if he totally resisted the pull to shift, he'd be a grouchy mess for the next few days, so he'd just have to pick a place on campus instead. His dorm room would have been too cramped, he'd be way too wired to deal, so he needed somewhere bigger. None of the parks close by really offered enough cover for him to escape human notice, so those were out too. There was one large building that he knew would be unoccupied for most of the night, though - Faber. Just after 9 the zamboni had gone out to clean up after a public skate and the lights had been turned out in the public areas. Coach Hall had left not long after (Coach Murray long gone). And sure, it had felt a little weird essentially staking out a hockey rink, but it really was the perfect place to spend the night. The only place he felt more comfortable outside of Georgia was his dorm room.

Unfortunately, he didn't have a key, but Jack did. Fortunately, he'd somehow managed to convince Jack to lend him it for the night, saying that he thought maybe a longer warm-up would help him in practice. And he was intending to get on the ice a little earlier than normal, so it wasn't even really a lie.

The moon rose in the sky not long after the rink emptied. The shift was pulling at him, but resisting it was easier with the knowledge that he'd be able to change soon. He let himself into the rink, leaving the door open behind him (he'd hear if anyone came in who wasn't supposed to). Stripping and shifting in the locker room was a little weird, but nothing could have prepared him for the scent of it after he'd shifted. It was simultaneously comforting and terrible — he was friends with lots of the guys on the team, and their scents were pleasant with that familiarity now, but that much b.o. was not okay. And needless to say, there was a lot of b.o..

He hurried out of the locker room, making sure to prop the door open slightly so he'd be able to get back in without thumbs. The players' lounge had more of that familiar team scent, thankfully with less eau de sweaty athlete, but the couches didn't hold much interest for him.

When he went through the tunnel to the ice, though, that's when he realized what a great idea this had been. He'd been skating for most of his life, but this was the first time he'd dared to shift in a rink, and therefore also the first time he was seeing ice as a wolf. The scent of the artificial ice had a bit more of a bite to it than he had expected, but that wasn't enough to keep him from running gleefully out onto centre ice (and then sliding all the way to the penalty box).

He spent the rest of the night on the ice, slipping and sliding around. He didn't think it was possible to have that much fun on a full moon without being with a group, but he was having a ball. Time slipped away from him a bit, before he knew it, it was 4 o'clock and Jack would be there right away. He scooted himself off the ice and hurried back to the dressing room.

He nudged the door open with his nose, and was halfway to his cubby when he realized he wasn't alone in the room. Jack was tying his skates and had looked up when the door opened. So there Eric was, staring Jack in the eye, one human, one wolf.

This was it, definitely the moment where the cat got out of the bag.

"Un chien?" Jack said, "Comment es-tu éntre?"

Which, what? Eric was definitely confused now. That didn't sound like an accusation though. In fact, the way Jack was holding out his hand made him think Jack hadn't figured him out — and worse, he'd been mistaken for a dog.

He ran out of the room, cursing a little when Jack followed him. He managed to lose him around the storage room though, and snuck back into the locker room, quickly shifting and changing. The adrenaline even made it so he didn't miss the four-legged form as much as he normally did after shifting back early on a full moon. He headed out on the ice, intending to at least honour his agreement with Jack a little. Jack entered a minute later.

"Bittle, did you see a dog?" he asked, right to the point.

Obviously playing dumb was the action plan here. "A dog?"

"Yeah, it was in the locker room."

"How'd it get there? Do you think it's okay? What if it's mean?" Maybe playing a little too dumb, and babbling a bit to boot.

"One of us must not have closed the door all the way," Jack decided with a shrug, "Hopefully it got back out okay."

Eric thought maybe they'd dwell on the 'dog' a bit more, but that was forgetting Jack's utter devotion to hockey any time it was remotely appropriate. He was pleasantly surprised with his ability to skate through the practice checks they did, to say nothing about the fact that he didn't lose control of his shift once. Neither did Jack as far as he could tell. If all full moons were this easy to handle, he'd have to hope they had games on the full moon more often.

* * *

Bitty saw someone's gloves bounce, thrown down in disgust, as they entered the locker room. He couldn't blame whoever did it, he would've done it himself if it weren't for the anger that accompanied it. The game had stretched on for so long, goalless, and then Ollie had been boarded. They still didn't even know if he was okay, he'd gone back with the medic right after and no word had reached the bench before the game ended. Jack and even Shitty had been near to throwing down with the guy who'd hit him. Even Kent, who barely knew Ollie, looked near to crawling over the glass and going after him. Needless to say, Bitty's stress levels were off the charts and he knew his claws were moments from popping. Better to keep the camouflage of his gloves and the rest of his equipment on.

Jack didn't have the same problem, not that Bitty had ever seen anything to imply any different, stripping and redressing so fast that friction burns might've been a concern. Bitty untied his skates focusing on the familiar task to try to keep himself calm. He managed to tune out the smell and sound of the locker room and all its distress, but then Jack practically ran past him on his way out of the room and his peace was shattered. Jack's scent was bitter, more acidic than it had ever been before and his heart was racing. More concerning was the wild undertones. If Bitty didn't know better, he'd swear Jack was moments from losing control of the shift.

A moment later he realized that might be exactly what it was. Shitty had also noticed Jack running and seemed as though he was gonna chase him down. Assuming he didn't know, that would not be a good idea. "I'm gonna go talk to him," Bitty said, slipping on his runners and following Jack. He'd already disappeared from sight but that alarming scent was more than easy to follow and Bitty quickly found himself approaching a supply closet.

He knocked on the door, wondering if Jack could hear him over the pounding of his heartbeat. "Jack?" he called softly, "I'm coming in."

There was no answer so he cracked open the door and slipped inside, closing it behind him. Jack looked up from where he sat curled up on the floor, a quick sharp motion, and his eyes widened before he said, "No no no, you can't be in here. Go away, Bittle," and he lost control.

Bitty'd wondered what Jack's wolf form would look like, if he'd be a great black wolf or a more tame brown. Maybe even a timber wolf — he was Canadian after all, and there were some packs up there with that form. He got one answer alright, that fur was black, poking through skin on his forearms and showing where ears had already taken form on his head. It would have been adorable if it weren't for the scent of panic surrounding them, filling the room so he could almost taste it.

"No, shit, why?" Jack reached up and pressed his ears down, almost like he was trying to force them back to human standard.

Bitty dropped to his knees next to him, "Shh, it's okay, it's just us."

"It's not okay," Jack snapped, "I'm a fucking monster! How are you just okay with this?"

That hurt, and surely came through in his scent if not his face, "You're not a monster, Jack, none of us are."

"I've got claws, Bittle, give me a moment and I'll have teeth sharp enough to rip your throat out too."

"I'll take my chances."

Jack growled at him, distinctly lupine. "How can you just sit there!? I'm a werewolf, you should be running!"

"You've been a werewolf all year," Bitty said, waving a hand dismissively, "If that was gonna scare me away it would've a long time ago."

The skipped beat in Jack's heart was almost as deafening as the racing that had accompanied this conversation, "You knew? How long? Who else knows?" Jack curled up in a ball, no longer pressing his ears down as they laid flat against his skull, " _ Crisse _ ."

The start of his tears was accompanied by a trace of salt in the air. Jack's breaths came ever faster and Bitty abruptly realized Jack was panicking.

"Shh, no honey, it's okay!" he said, both wanting to wrap his arms around Jack and knowing that might not be helpful, "I haven't told anyone and I won't, I promise!" he said, aiming for damage control, "What can I do to help?"

Jack was silent for a moment — ignoring his gasping breaths and thundering heartbeat — before he said, like the tiniest olive branch, "Just sit there for now."

So that's what Bitty did. He listened to Jack's heart continue hammering and realized Jack might be doing the same. He immediately slowed his breathing, counting internally and doing his best to will his heart to slow down. Minutes later, how many exactly he couldn't say, he found himself calm and Jack closer to it.

The door slammed open, shattering that calm. "Bits, you and Jack okay? Shitty said you went this way."

Fuck, did Jack have the shift under control? Bitty looked towards him and saw Kent do the same. They both saw at the exact same time that the fur was out and so were the fangs.

Bitty sprang up and pushed Kent behind him, made awkward in that Kent was trying to do the same thing, "Bits, it's dangerous-" "Kent, it's fine! Jack, it's okay! You're safe, calm down!"

"He's safe?" Kent said incredulously, "Bitty, that's a fucking werewolf! You're not safe."

Jack pushed himself further back into the wall, whining as the shift pulled him further.

"You're not helping," Bitty said cooly to Kent, "Back off." He turned back to Jack. "It's gonna be okay, I promise. We'll deal with this issue together," he glanced pointedly at Kent, "Let's just calm down and then we can talk."

Kent stepped fully into the closet, closing and locking the door behind him (this would have been so much better if he'd remembered to do that himself). At another significant look from Bitty, he stepped back against the door and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm not leaving you alone with him," he said. Jack curled up in a ball, flinching at Kent's words.

"I'm perfectly safe. We all are. We're gonna sit here and breathe calmly, and when we're all ready we're gonna have a long talk."

He counted out loud this time, needing the sound himself even if no one else did. Eventually Jack uncurled.

"Doing alright?" Bitty asked.

Jack nodded, highlighting the fact that the shift had receded and his features were fully human again. He took a deep breath and said, "I want answers."

"For sure," Bitty said, "Anything you need."

"Anything he needs?" Kent echoed sourly. Bitty chose to ignore that.

"How did you know?" the tense, demanding captain of preseason was back.

Kent's echo was less sour, "You knew? I've known Jack for years and I had no idea!"

Bitty hedged for a moment before realizing anything other than the truth wouldn't help Jack's nerves any and getting Kent to leave would be impossible. "Don't freak out," he said to both of them.

"That has never once led to anything good," Jack said dryly. Kent laughed bitterly.

"Not that bad," Bitty let a bit of a whine slip into his voice, "Okay, so, the reason I knew you were a werewolf is pretty simple." He took a deep breath, "I'm one too."

"You're a werewolf?"

"Fucking you too?"

"You don't have to sound so incredulous," Bitty complained, before letting the start of the shift sweep over him, taking him distinctly away from human. "Grr," he joked.

Jack jerked back, nearly hitting his head against the wall, " _ Crisse _ ."

The thump from Kent indicated he actually had hit his head, "Fuck." His eyes were wide, darting back and forth between Bitty and Jack, scent turning acrid with fear.

Bitty dropped the shift immediately, "You okay?" He wasn't even sure who he was talking to. The longer this went on, the less okay any of them seemed to be.

Kent slid down the door to the floor, "Were you just messing with me?" he demanded.

"Because I didn't tell you I'm a werewolf? How do you even know about them?"

Kent's heart started racing, "Shit. Don't freak out." He had his hands in the air like he was under arrest, "My family are hunters."

Bitty couldn't keep the fear off his face or out of his scent. Jack just seemed confused, "Hunt what?"

"Werewolves," Bitty whispered, "Us."

"Not like that!" Kent protested, "Well, kinda, but I don't do that!"

"That's the scent in your apartment! I wondered why everything I made there tasted off!" Bitty realized.

The quiet almost echoed, the scent of fear no longer being pumped out quite as quickly.

"What?"

"That's the important part, Bittle?"

Bitty flushed, "I couldn't place it. And he said he's not a hunter, and I know I'm not gonna hurt anybody..."

"Priorities, Bits, you need priorities," Kent said.

"You're not gonna do anything, are you?"

"Well, no."

"So it's perfectly acceptable for baking to be my priority. What do you even have there, some wolfsbane?"

Kent shrugged, "My mom didn't want me to not have any sort of protection. It's tucked in a box under my bed."

"That obviously worked out the way she wanted it to," Jack said dryly, "Lot of help there when you're locked in a closet with two werewolves." He paused, "So people hunt werewolves?"

Kent and Bitty both looked at him, shocked. "Seriously? That's gotta be one of the first things they warn you about, right? Bitty?"

"Who the heck bit you?" Bitty asked, "Next you're gonna tell me they didn't even help you figure out the shift."

Jack was suspiciously silent.

"Lord. Jack, please tell me you have a handle on the shift."

Jack waved a hand at where his ears had been moments ago. "Did that look handled? I can usually stop it."

"What does usually mean?"

"I haven't turned into a wolf yet this year, besides this."

"Jack!" Dismayed didn't even begin to cover it, "You can't just not shift!"

"Why not?" Kent asked, "It seems like it's working out fine."

"This," Bitty waved a hand around, encompassing the closet they were all huddled in and the situation, as out of hand as it was, "is just going to keep happening. If you don't shift deliberately, the involuntary stuff gets even harder to control. I'm surprised you even made it that long." He looked at Jack.

"Why would I want to do that?" Jack asked, "What if I hurt someone?"

"Listen," Bitty said, glancing at both Jack and Kent, "You're still you when you shift. If you weren't gonna attack someone when human, you won't when wolf. We're not dangerous or monsters."

And maybe that hadn't quite gotten through to Jack, but Bitty could see that Kent was actually thinking about it. "Kent's been locked in here with the two of us for a while now," he said carefully, trying to emphasize his point without causing another panic, "And we haven't been calm or completely in control the whole damn time. If we were actually a danger to him, he'd be dead by now."

The blood drained from Kent's face and Bitty cringed away from the acrid scent of fear. "You're not in danger, Kent," he insisted.

"I need to go," Kent said, standing up somewhat shakily, "I'm- It's not- I need to think."

"Of course," Bitty said, "Just. Let me know you're okay?"

Kent unlocked the door, heading out. "I'll text you," he said, and walked away.

"Shit," Bitty said, still sitting on the floor, trying not to cry, "That was not how I wanted him to find out." Would they be able to get past this? He scrubbed at his eyes, "But that's not important. How're you doing, Jack?" he tried to force some pep into his voice, "Think you're good to go back? Otherwise Shitty's gonna come looking next and I don't know if I can handle another one of those conversations today."

* * *

"We're not practicing checking today," Bitty said, after Jack had drug him to Faber at 4 a.m. the next morning.

"Wouldn't it have made more sense to back out before we got here?"

"Not backing out either. I'm not practicing checking, you're practicing being a werewolf."

Jack stopped pulling his skates out of his bag. "And what exactly does that involve?"

"Same things my mama did with me after the bite. Practice shifting, tracking scents, hearing things, all that jazz." It was both a blessing and a curse that he'd been bitten so far through the school year. That summer break had been the most exhausting experience of his life.

"You were bitten too?" Jack asked, "Why?"

"Lord, that's probably the first time you've latched onto that and not the concept of practice and hard work in your life. Yeah, I was bitten. I got hurt pretty bad and it's not like I wasn't planning on getting it later." He shrugged.

Jack seemed torn between distress and curiosity, "Later?"

"You so obviously didn't grow up around a pack. The Phelps have always been weres, but a few of us are born human every generation. We usually wait until we're adults before getting the bite, me being an obvious exception."

Jack mulled that over for a moment, "So it can heal you?"

"Moomaw said it could bring people back from the dead, so long as you were quick about it, but no one's ever done that as far as I know." At Jack's silence, he added, "Not that I was so badly hurt, Mama just couldn't bear to see me in pain when she could fix it so easily. Like I said, not like it wasn't gonna happen within a few years anyway."

Jack was quiet a moment longer, staring down at the red S on the floor of the locker room. He met Bitty's eyes then and said, "So, practice?"

"Yeah. Show me what you got." Jack's blank look was a bit disconcerting. "Let's see your shift," Bitty clarified.

Jack frowned and closed his eyes. He stood there for a minute, eyes still closed, then looked at Bitty again. "How do I do that?" he asked.

"Were you trying to shift?" Bitty asked. At this rate, any knowledge at all Jack had about being a werewolf was gonna be a surprise. A moment later, the other half of that realization kicked in, "With your clothes on?" And he was blushing a bright red, "Ah, that probably sounded really weird and creepy and I promise I'm not pulling your leg or anything but generally you shift while undressed. Saves on ripped clothing and, trust me, nothing worse than being a wolf wearing jeans. There's no room for your tail!"

Jack actually smiled at that, which at least meant Bitty wasn't weirding him out too badly. "And after that? I assume there's more to that than just being naked or the whole team would know about both of us."

"Well, it depends on you. I kinda try to pull on my inner wolf, but I'm sure that just sounds like a bunch of hooey. But it's all about feeling like you are a wolf and your body matching that. Or something."

"Shouldn't you be better at explaining that?" Jack asked, smirking, "You have that whole baking vlog thing."

"No chirping the teacher," Bitty said, shoving at Jack's shoulder, "Not like I can have a werewolf vlog thing anyway. I've never been able to teach anyone any of this before."

"It remains to be seen if you can teach it at all."

"Oh shush you. Now strip!"

Jack cocked an eyebrow at him but did as he was told, casual in his nudity the way serious athletes (and werewolves) were. But with just the two of them there, it was harder to resist the temptation to ogle and all the more important to (you have a boyfriend, Bitty reminded himself).

"So I want you to think about what it feels like to be a wolf, how it's the same and how it's different."

Jack closed his eyes again. A few moments later his brow furrowed and his scent soured. Bitty thought about interrupting him, but maybe it was just something he had to work through? It didn't get better though and soon Jack's heart started racing and- "Okay, that's not working!" Bitty half-shouted.

Jack immediately opened his eyes and wrapped his arms around himself.

"Wanna talk about what that was?" Bitty asked.

Another quiet moment, then, "Being a wolf is bad."

That cut Bitty to the core, "What? My whole life, all I wanted was to be a werewolf. And it's everything I dreamed it would be and more, I feel more myself than I ever have. How could that possibly be bad?"

"Maybe you dreamed about it, but I have nightmares about it, Bittle. Maybe it's all fluffy puppies for you but it's fucking terrifying for me! Absolutely nothing about this is good!"

His eyes were wide and Bitty picked up that same terror in his scent. It had been there in the sour scent from earlier too, just buried under other scents in an unpleasant mixture, he realized.

"Don't you have any good experiences?" Bitty asked softly.

"My experiences are being bitten by one and being one step away from losing control every full moon."

"There's gotta be something good, just one little moment."

"Nothing," Jack insisted.

"Then we'll just have to make some." Bitty stripped off his clothing efficiently as he continued, "I'll shift, you stay human and like pet me or whatever. Just get comfortable with the concept." He didn't let Jack say anything to the contrary, just rolled through the shift as fast as possible. A moment later he was on all fours, before deliberately sitting down and wagging his tail slightly.

Jack crouched down and put a hand on his back, stroking slowly.

"This isn't so bad," he said, keeping up the motion, "Reminds me of that dog I saw, you remember that?"

Bitty stood up, abruptly dislodging Jack's hand, and immediately started shifting back.

"Oof, too many too fast," he groaned, "Jack, that wasn't a dog."

"You weren't even there."

"Jack, that was me."

It was almost kinda funny to see the thoughts flit across his face, subtle as they were, "But you're a wolf?"

"Honey, I am, and I'm also sure you can't tell wolf from dog at all. It was the full moon and I didn't want to miss practice so I broke in here and fooled around all night."

"You weren't afraid of attacking someone?"

The way he said it, so matter-of-factly, broke Bitty's heart, "Of course not, I'm still me. And you're still you. I don't know what's got you all twisted up about this but you're not a monster Jack, you just get a little harrier sometimes. You're not gonna hurt anyone."

Jack didn't seem convinced.

"I'll prove it. We'll spend the next full moon together and it'll be fine. You'll shift, I'll shift, and we'll have a fantastic time."

* * *

**Kent:** our usual time at annies

Bitty had stared at that text for an hour before agreeing. The two days since the incident had felt exceedingly long, even if he had thrown himself whole-heartedly in figuring out how to help Jack embrace his inner wolf in an attempt at distraction. Now he was staring at the text again while sitting on a bench across the path from Annie's, trying not to stare as Kent sipped his coffee and repeatedly glanced at his own phone. He nearly dropped it when it buzzed.

**Kent:** i can see you

He sheepishly pocketed his phone and entered the cafe. Kent had stood up and ordered for him the moment he got off the bench and dropped his latte off a moment after he sat down. Contrary to the last time Bitty saw him, he was calm, no trace of fear anywhere in his scent.

"So. You're a werewolf."

"Probably what you were looking for when you wanted to know my deepest darkest secret."

Kent shrugged, "May have influenced that second date."

"And?" Bitty said, "Not like you mentioned you're a hunter." He held his latte and tried not to seem frightened.

"I'm not, just my family," Kent protested.

Bitty couldn't help but flinch, but he braved through it. "Hunters nearly killed me once already," he said in a low voice, conscious of the people around them, "I need to know if I can trust you."

"You can tell if I'm telling the truth, right?"

Bitty nodded.

"I won't do anything to hurt you."

His heart didn't betray a lie, but still, "That's not good enough. What if you tell someone and they come after me? What about Jack?"

"None of that either. I'll do my best to keep both of you safe."

"So what are we doing?"

Kent paused, thinking, "I'm not comfortable just going back to how things are, but I'm not willing to just give you up," he glanced down at his drink, "And you were right, the other day, if you were actually dangerous I wouldn't be having this conversation right now. Everything I've been taught says otherwise."

"We need to be able to trust each other."

* * *

"How long have you guys been doing this?" Kent said before breaking out into a large yawn as they walked through the hallways of Faber, "It's way too fucking early."

"Exactly. The ice was always free for checking practices and there's no chance of interruption for werewolf practice now. The woods aren't exactly a safe option," Bitty glanced significantly at Kent.

"Oh yeah. You did manage to run into almost the worst possible person."

"Aww, you love me too." He said, swinging open the locker room door. He only really realized what he'd just said when he heard Kent's breath catch, but the door was open and Jack was there and he didn't know where to go to address that topic.

So he avoided it.

"Jack! You're still cool with Kent sitting in, right?" At his nod, he continued, "So since shifting practice was a bit weird, I thought we could try some stuff with senses - like scent and hearing and stuff."

"Ooh," Kent said, sitting down in Johnson's stall, "You gonna teach him the lie detector thing?"

"That's a good idea! It's pretty easy to pick up." Bitty turned to Jack, "You can pick out our heartbeats, right?"

"Yeah."

"So the basic thing is that someone's heart will give them away if they lie, just a little thing but you should be able to hear the difference. Wanna go ahead and tell us a lie, honey?" He addressed the last part at Kent.

"This is a totally reasonable hour of the morning for truth or dare," Kent said.

"You volunteered to come!" Bitty said, elbowing him. Kent's slight flinch hurt, but he didn't react otherwise. Maybe they could get through this.

"Okay, okay, I've never been to Disneyland." There was the telltale twitch.

Jack frowned, "I think I heard it? Tell another." 

"I believe in ghosts." He kept his face straight, but Bitty at least caught the little lurch in his heart. That was a bit waylaid by the subject matter though - 

"You don't believe in ghosts? You're talking to two werewolves!"

Kent shrugged, "Never seen a ghost."

Bitty rolled his eyes, "Neither have I."

"Your heart did the thing," Jack said, "Does sarcasm read the same as lying?"

"Holy fuck, ghosts are real?"

"There were a couple near pack territory down in Georgia."

"That one was steady. So ghosts are real."

"And you're getting it!" Bitty said, "There's a few weird situations, so you can't always count on it, but now it's just practice."

"What sort of weird situations?" Kent asked. At Bitty's suspicious look (abruptly reminded of why they were doing this) he raised his hands and continued, "I'm just curious. I told you I'm not going to sell out your secrets or anything."

"See, Jack, that one coulda been tricky, cuz if he'd not told me that it might've read as a lie, or if he was planning on telling it might've too."

"So it still could be a lie," Jack surmised, "But he's still here."

"He is." Trust had to run both ways. "So the trick obviously only works if the person's heartbeat is pretty regular. If someone's panicking and their heart's racing, those skips are nearly impossible to hear. And some people are just so good at lying that you'll never hear a difference no matter what they're telling you."

The two of them seemed to digest it.

"Wait - if you can't tell a lie when someone's freaking out, I could've lied about the hunter thing," Kent said.

Bitty ignored the pang of alarm at still hanging around Kent without knowing that little detail, and nodded, "I wouldn't have been able to tell, and he sure wouldn't have."

Jack didn't even protest, "Even if I knew what I was doing, I was much too busy worrying about being found out."

With that sobering thought, the sound of the team echoed down the hall. Seconds later the door swung open.

"Why are you sitting in a circle on the floor?" Shitty asked.

"Meditating for Bittle's nerves." Jack said. His face didn't give away the lie like his heart did.

* * *

"I confirmed none of the staff is going to be here until 9 tomorrow morning," Jack said, closing the door to Faber firmly behind him, "And Coach Hall and Coach Murray are in Boston so we don't have to worry about them dropping in."

"So you're feeling okay about this?" Bitty asked.

"As okay as I'm going to, I think."

"I'll take what wins I can get."

They walked to the locker room before quietly getting undressed and sitting on the floor, Jack's nerves filling the room with an uncomfortable tension.

"Okay, let's review the game plan," Bitty said, trying to give him something to focus on, "You're gonna shift as soon as you can and I'll wait in case something goes wrong. Worst case scenario I'll lock you in here for the night, not that it'll come to that."

Jack nodded. Bitty pulled up his phone and the clock, "Sunset is in a few minutes, so whenever you're ready." He could feel the pull already but it was easy to resist.

They sat quietly the last few minutes. Bitty tried and failed not to think about Kent’s reaction to all this. He was relieved when he felt the moment the sun went down and the moon was left to fill the sky, glad for the distraction. He glanced at Jack, "Ready?"

"It's- I'm so used to stopping it," Jack said, "I don't know how to make it happen."

"You can feel it though, right?" Bitty said, "Right here." And he leaned across the gap between them, resting a hand directly on Jack's heart, "Your wolf's inside and it's ready to come out. You're ready."

Jack took a deep breath, lifting Bitty's hand a bit, and then Bitty felt a prickle under his palm. He pulled his hand back and watched the shift slip over Jack, fur sprouting before his shape changed, leaving a large black wolf where he had been.

"Oh Jack, you're lovely," he said, "Can I touch?"

Jack shifted his weight a bit, moving back a half step and Bitty carefully put his hands in his lap. The pull of the moon was there, but he was patient — had to be, for Jack.

Eventually, Jack turned away and paced the length of the locker room, even stopping to sniff in a corner. The fury of Lardo and Bitty combined had eventually gotten Holster and Ransom to not stockpile dirty underwear there, and the moment Jack realized that was the scent he jumped back like there was something there that could get him. Bitty couldn't help but laugh. Jack's attention swung back to him and he only hesitated a moment before walking back over and carefully sitting within arms reach, still a little unsure on four legs.

"You're doing great, sweetie," Bitty said, still deliberately not reaching out.

Jack made a strangled sound — the sound of trying to talk without human vocal cords that Bitty well knew from when he was first bitten — before nudging closer and slipping his head between Bitty's arm and torso.

"See, nothing to worry about!" Taking that as silent permission (couldn't really get more obvious without speaking and that wasn't exactly an option at the moment) he reached out with his other hand, slow enough that Jack could stop it if he wanted to, and stroked an ear softly. His fur was so soft, "Oh, Jack, you really are lovely. You think you're good for me to shift now too?"

Jack pulled away a bit then nodded. Bitty stood up and cracked the door open, "Believe me, slipping and sliding around on the ice is fun alone, it's gonna be great with the two of us."

When Jack didn't seem to object, Bitty went ahead and let the shift come, quickly settling into his wolf form and shaking out his fur.

As a wolf, the urge to get a good whiff of Jack's wolf was hard to resist, and really, if he was teaching Jack what being a good werewolf was about, he shouldn't even try. It was just polite to exchange scents, after all. So he let himself go for it, walking close and scenting deep. The scent was just how he would have imagined it, woody with the unmistakable element of ice. He would’ve laughed if a wolf could when he realized the woody scent was maple trees. When he'd gotten his fill (maybe a little longer than necessary) he took a couple steps back before heading out the door, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Jack was following him.

He made a bee-line for the ice, gleefully jumping straight over the walls (maybe he should have remembered to check if the gate was open, but this was fun too) and sliding most of the way across the ice. He barked, encouraging Jack to follow and that was all it took for a big black blur to bounce over the gate, admittedly at a slightly slower speed. He still had enough momentum to get nearly as far as Bitty, who took the opportunity to get a bit of a running start up and slide right into him in some sort of wolfy check. Jack jolted, but didn't playfully snap at him like Bitty would have. It was an abrupt reminder of what was going on right then. So Bitty nudged him forcefully and darted away, gleefully wagging his tail. Jack took the hint and a game of tag started, both of them slipping and sliding across the ice.

They whiled the night away like that, taking breaks on the benches whenever they got tired or the pads of their feet got too cold (no insulation from skates for their wolfy toes). The sky was just starting to lighten through Faber's windows when Bitty felt the moon's hold release and the imperative need to be in wolf form go away. The concept of being nude on ice without the insulation of fur wasn't appealing (not again, hazapalooza was enough, thanks) so he maintained the shift. Jack wasn't so lucky, so Bitty hurriedly nudged him off the ice and into the locker room, shifting and starting the showers right away.

"That was pretty fun, right, Jack?" he said, grinning.

"It was different."

"I'm gonna take that as agreement then. Now that you got that out of the way, we can work on shifting without the moon helping you along! We'll keep going with morning practices, I think."

If he hadn't been a werewolf he wouldn't have heard Jack mutter, "I've created a monster." As it was, he let it slide. He wasn't wrong.

* * *

Two weeks later, and one unfortunate incident during an away game, and checking practice was underway again.

"You really should be practicing shifting," Bitty said, steeling himself near the boards, "It's still taking you a bit to get it going and there's other stuff to learn!"

"Oh, no, this is much more fun," Kent said, leaning against the boards by the bench, "Totally worth getting up super early."

"It's more important that you stay on the team," Jack said, before coming into him hard with a check. The kid gloves were off.

Bitty's instincts were, too. He found himself on the ice again, curled up in a ball and covering his face with his arms.

"Big bad werewolf, eh?" Jack teased.

The reminder was enough that Bitty stopped cowering quite so badly — nothing to hide here at least. Jack's quiet "oh" was enough for him to tell that all the pieces had been put together. If he'd shifted anymore, his snout would be up against the face shield of his helmet.

"Is this what your issue is about?"

Bitty whined and shrugged, too far from human for speech. Jack crouched beside him, carefully putting an arm around his shoulders. Kent shuffled across the ice towards the two of them, cursing and muttering "should have brought my skates" at least once. Eventually he got there, curling his own arm around Bitty and very noticeably not flinching away from him.

Kent helped pop his helmet off, carefully lifting it so as not to tug on his lupine ears. He dropped the helmet on the ice and absently started stroking the ear closest to him, seeming to not notice what he was doing.

Bitty finally calmed down enough that the shift lost its hold on him and he shifted back.

“Weird,” Kent commented, and Bitty flinched. As he was pressed right up against Kent, it was impossible to miss, “No, not that! It just was a really different feeling, your ear going less furry and stuff.”

Jack seemed a bit dubious, glaring at Kent, but neither of them made a move. They sat in silence before Bitty finally couldn’t take it.

“When things get too physical, I shift.”

Neither of the other two said anything.

“It wasn’t like I liked pushing and shoving when I was human, but it wasn’t so bad. It didn’t terrify me like it does now.”

Kent squeezed his hand but let him keep going. He took a deep breath. “Meemaw figures it’s from what happened the night I got turned. Some hunters had came after the pack on the night of a full moon. I was out with them, playing with some of the younger cousins alone in a clearing.

“It was so obvious who they were. I stayed between my cousins and them, hoping they wouldn’t hurt a human. And at first they didn’t. Then they came closer, pushing and shoving me, trying to goad me to shift. Apparently they don’t like killing wolves in human form.”

Kent murmured, “It’s true,” to Jack.

“They seemed to think it was fun. Eventually, they got between me and the cousins, and I was so glad they were still focused on me. So I ran, hoping they’d follow me and terrified when they did. I ran until I stepped on a bear trap they’d left out there.

“Mama heard me scream and came running. The hunters were gone but by then it was obvious my leg was toast. She got me out and gave me the bite right after.

“So I guess that’s why I react like that,” he said with a shrug.

“Bits, that’s horrible!” Kent said.

Jack said, “You’re brave. You went through all that and you didn’t take off running the moment you found out about  _ him _ .” He nodded at Kent.

* * *

That big heart-to-heart seemed to actually help. Two weeks later, Holster forgot and slammed into Bitty and Bitty skated right through it. Jack insisted on more practice, but even he would admit that Bitty was doing better. So the next practice they had, bright and early as usual, Bitty insisted on more werewolf training for Jack.

Kent was there, also making his own stance clear — he wanted to understand as much as he could and Bitty didn’t have the heart to say no.

“Scent’s pretty useful,” he said, the three of them sat on the floor of the locker room again, “You can get an idea of someone’s emotions, if they’re sick, and, maybe most importantly, their  _ species _ .”

“Why’s that important?” Jack asked.

“Why- Jack, I spent a day thinking I was losing my mind smelling things that weren’t there, and you spent months trying to hide something from me I already knew!”

Kent laughed, “He’s got you there.”

“It didn’t help him know you had hunter connections.”

“Well, no, but the wolfsbane at his apartment should have been obvious,” Bitty said, “And besides, now, it’s really obvious he spends a lot of time with wolves.”

He took a deep breath and encouraged Jack to do the same. “See, focus on Kent’s scent — mine is kinda layered on there a bit, enough that even I can pick up on it. Yours is there a little too, but you probably won’t be able to catch it.”

“Why not?” Kent asked.

“Can you smell yourself? You’re just so used to your own scent it gets filtered out as noise.”

Jack continued taking deep breaths. “Okay, I get it. You smell a bit like him, too.”

“Good!” Bitty said, “Then let’s dig a little deeper. The emotion things are a bit harder to practice — we can’t just make someone feel the way we want them to at the moment — but we can at least practice picking out what we’re feeling right now. Let’s start with Kent again.”

Emotions were usually more of an undercurrent to someone’s scent. Some emotions complemented their natural scent, some clashed. Kent’s had an element to it just then that Bitty had never noticed before, and it complimented him perfectly.

“So what am I feeling, oh wise werewolf?” Kent asked, grinning.

Bitty concentrated, “Well, obviously you’re pretty happy. A little tired, a little hungry - did you skip breakfast? And…”

“And?” Jack prompted.

That scent. “And you’re in love,” Bitty said softly.

Kent’s heart stuttered. “Uh, yeah. With you.”

Neither of them noticed Jack quietly exiting the room.

“You love me?” Bitty asked.

“It’s hard not to. Of course I love you.”

“Oh.”

“Fuzzy tail and all.” Kent grinned.

“You jerk,” Bitty said, shoving him, “I love you too.”

Kent pulled him into a kiss, sitting on the floor of the locker room and surrounded by smelly equipment — none of which mattered to Bitty.

“This isn’t exactly how I thought I’d tell you I love you, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”


End file.
